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[Stretches out both hands to her.] Because I had another gift to offer you then—a common simple gift—like myself. If you want to know it I will tell you.

[Looking at her watch.] Past is past, Robert. And I think I ought to go now. It is nine almost.

[Impetuously.] No, no. Not yet. There is one confession more and we have the right to speak.

[Turning towards him, places her left hand on his shoulder.] Yes, Robert. I know that you like me. You need not tell me. [Kindly.] You need not confess any more tonight.

[Pointing over his shoulder.] Look! It is too high.

The wind is rising. I will close that door.

[Listening.] No, it is raining still. It was only a gust of wind.